Married with Complications
by MyMadness
Summary: An explanation of things Edith and Anthony. This goes with my other Edith/Anthony story, "Least Shall Be Loved." And it is yummy and sexy and conflicted. Or it is trying very hard to be. I can say, it is short. Chapter 3/3: "That's disgusting."
1. Chapter 1

**Married with Complications**

**_Author's Note: This goes along with my other Edith/Anthony story, "Least Shall Be Loved." You needn't read the other, I suppose. But I did go back and improve that a bit, and it is not overly long. So, I'd like to think you'll read/re-read "Least..." too. Are you picking up on the guilt? I'm a mother, I have years of practice at this._**

**_I think of this as its own story, a companion piece to the other. But you can also see it as snugging in between chapters 4 and 5 of "Least..."_**

**_I do not know if anyone has told all of you lately, but you folks (the readers and writers here in Downton Abbey Land) are a wonderful lot. I truly love being here amongst you. Really, we need a virtual/real pub where we can all meet._**

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><p>"Edith, dear," her husband said gently. He stood behind her now where she gazed out the window. "You've been refusing all the invitations from your parents."<p>

"You understand," she told him with a quiet shrug.

"Well, somewhat, yes. You are different from your sisters. You didn't feel like you fit in at home?"

"I was the ugly ducking."

"No, Edith," Anthony insisted.

"They may be my family, but I am nothing like them. I'm glad to be away. I belong with you," she said as resolutely as she could. She turned half toward him and just for a moment. Just long enough to take his hand and draw it around her. They had not been married long, only a month. But she had already learned that he seemed to like to have his arm about her just so.

"Yes. You _do_ belong with me. But exclusively?" he asked. "Are we never to see anyone else?" He pulled her a little tighter then and kissed her once on the back of her neck.

"I don't know that I'd mind that," she said with a teasing smile in her voice.

"The quarrel with your sister Mary. Is that something you still worry about? Why don't you at least put that behind you?"

"I can't," she admitted.

"You are still angry with her?"

"No. It's that I know she's still angry with me. I'm afraid to face her, frankly."

"Oh, Edith."

"You don't know what I did to her," his wife said lowly.

"You told me how horribly sorry you are for whatever happened. That was all I needed to hear. Perhaps, it would help if you told her..."

"If you think anything I could say would help, then you must not know Mary," Edith said quite matter of factly.

"It might help _**you**_. It is you I am concerned with."

The young woman turned to put her arms around him. She could not believe her luck sometimes - at times like these, especially. This is what it was like to have a champion. A supporter, she realized, as she looked up at his dear blue eyes.

… … ...

They lay in bed later, and in the dark she turned and confessed to him. "I'm frightened to face Mary. Because I let out a secret. Something she did."

"She goaded you, she was cruel toward you, and you over reacted," he said, sympathetically. "And then she came between us in response. She is not blameless here."

"Will you go with me... when I apologize?"

"Shhh, of course," he whispered. "Now. Come closer and I can hold you ...if you want."

They were still shy lovers. She inched closer and cast her arm around his waist. Settled her head at his chest. And wondered.

… … ...

She had over heard a sly comment once that a wife should welcome her husband's attentions... more often than not. That still left a lot of 'not', and it said nothing at all about a wife who had wants of her own.

Edith had refused Anthony only a few times. She had had her monthly once, a horrifying prospect to even hint at. And had been just exhausted after a social engagement on another occasion. There had been other times when he did not ask, and she had wanted him. On those nights she had only kissed him 'good night' and pulled in tighter to the blankets to avoid embarrassing herself.

Edith had no confidence in these things. Even now that she felt she knew how she truly felt about the man, she still didn't know how she should act. So, she waited.

Anthony would approach her slowly, even now after a month of being married. But then in that month they had only managed the act 8 times. She had kept count and even replayed each time in her head.

The first night had been marked by apologies. Hers for the jittery way she responded to each new sensation. His were for the sting she felt.

When was it, she wondered, that she had fallen in love with him? It had been sometime after they were married, she had to admit. Sometime soon after that first evening.

Was it a moment when it had occurred?

Had it come as a gradual realization?

Did she fall in love with him because he had come to her room for their first night together packed as if they were going on a picnic? Was it because he had made her laugh and had kissed her gently as they had lain in that bed.

Or was it because he had woken up and come to find her after? He had stood outside the door to the wash room and waited for her.

.

_"Do you hate me?" he had worried with his head to her shoulder._

"_No!"_

"_Was it awful?" _

"_You know it wasn't," she had whispered. "Not for me, at least." _

_She knew she had called out as sensation had overwhelmed her, loud enough that he certainly should remember. Her voice had seemed strange to her, guttural and full of feeling as he had tended to her. He had touched her so intently._

_._

Had she fallen in love with him because of the remainder of that night?

There had been the boyish look to him with his hair all pulled astray. The way he had sat by her feet in bed. Or the way he had poured her a glass of wine or fed her from the picnic basket.

.

"_Merlot has dozens of medicinal properties," he said only half jokingly. _

"_There is nothing wrong with me," she insisted. But she leaned back against the propped up pillows and took the offered glass._

"_It gets better. I swear," he told her, awkwardly. _

_She blushed. _

_They settled in to sleep after that bit of wine and conversation. _

"_If I make you feel claustrophobic. You need only tell me," he told her._

_She rolled away from him to settle on her side, and he rested his hand on her hip. _

_Now his touch felt warm and reassuring to her. No longer new and odd. She meant to remark on the change, but she was quickly lost to sleep._

_._

Did she love him because of the way he had whispered and placed a kiss to the back of her neck come morning?

Was it the day light that had made everything seemed changed?

.

_He was curled lightly behind her. "Did I wake you? I'm sorry," he said. _

"_No. I just woke, is all." They carried on talking like this. Him behind her. His hand was flat __against her stomach now making her tingle oddly._

"_Will you let me make love to you again? I want you to know how much better it can be." _

"_You mean now?" She wouldn't tell him, but she found the notion that they would make love by day light much more alarming than the idea of engaging in such acts twice in only a few hours._

"_Yes. Now..."_

"_But it's morning already." She was afraid she sounded both appalled and frightened._

"_No one will disturb us. We have no schedule to keep... But we won't," he promised. "I won't push you." _

_He kissed her once, just quickly, and she heard herself sigh. _

_He prompted her to roll to her back, and he smiled at her. His fingers traced circles on her stomach. And loops down to her hipbones. _

_"Shhh," he said to reassure her. "I won't. But, it's better already, do you see?" he asked. _

_She nodded. "Last night I jumped when you touched me like that."_

_He leaned in and kissed her then. Her neck. Her collar bone. He kissed her through the thin fabric. Her breast bone and her shoulder. She tugged on his pajama shirt, pulling him up so she could put her arms around him. She smiled then. Laughed and kissed him. _

_And if she was in charge of such things, she fell in love with him then._

... ... ...

She pressed herself tighter against him tonight and waited. The most recent time he had approached her had been only the night before last night, and she was sure the dear man was either keeping himself to some sort of schedule in the hopes of not overwhelming her. Or worse, that he did not welcome making love to her more frequently.

They kissed, and she answered him, her lips parted. Her fingers were at his waist pulling gently.

When he stopped as if to look at her despite the dark, she felt the need well up in her. She let loose a low noise. Tonight was different, could he tell?

All the talk of her family had left her hurt and confused, and she needed him tonight. She needed his kisses and his touch as much as his understanding. She wanted to be all his. To forget the things that troubled her, to lose herself in his attentions. And she wanted him to be so completely hers.

"Edith?" he questioned softly. He did not seem sure about what he sensed from her.

She wanted to tell him how she felt. That she loved him. Needed him. Wanted him inside her. But she was sure she shouldn't or couldn't. "Yes," she merely clarified. "If you want?" she pretended to hedge.

/


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

_**a/n: This is complicated. Or perhaps I have only made it such. But the point some addled part of my brain was going for is that knowing what you want is hard enough. Knowing what someone else wants is sometimes impossible**_.

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><p><em>All the talk of her family had left her hurt and confused, and she needed him tonight. She needed his kisses and his touch as much as his understanding. She wanted to be all his. To forget the things that troubled her, to lose herself in his attentions. And she wanted him to be so completely hers.<em>

_"Edith?" he questioned softly. He did not seem sure about what he sensed from her._

_She wanted to tell him how she felt. That she loved him. Needed him. Wanted him inside her. But she was sure she shouldn't or couldn't. "Yes," she merely clarified. "If you want?" she pretended to hedge._

It was a fervent but unimaginative economy of actions that brought him to her. Her nightgown was slowly raised by them both. He pushed his pajama bottoms down.

It was as if investing too much was to make any risk of rejection worse.

His hands ghosted across her in question, and he burned to have her return that intimate touch. But she merely petted at his sides, as if tensely marking time.

"Edith..." he murmured, uneasily. In his head the words came with no effort. _Tell me that you want this._ _Show me that you want me. _

But wasn't it enough, he tried to console himself, that her body welcomed him, even silently, at times like this?

He eased her onto her back with quick kisses and careful touches, and then pressed forward. She had wanted him so long now that she cried out when her anticipation was finally met. He quickly stilled, fearing some fault. "Did I hurt you?"

"No, no. Please, Anthony," she said. _I want you, and I want you to tell me I'm all yours. That you demand it of me. Show me that you need me in the most unreasonable way._

She pulled at him, but he could not know exactly why. She shifted beneath him, desperate for the deeper contact and the friction. And he could only think she was correcting his misstep.

"Yes?" he asked gently.

She touched his face then. Hummed just so. The emotion she elicited in him made him freeze for a moment. He was suddenly full of hope. And so completely in love with her.

_So good. So good. So good._ The words and the sensation ran through her as he moved now. But he heard none of it. Just the hitch to her breathing. The sharp intake of air.

Suddenly, she seemed to answer what he was doing. To be fully his. After a bare minute of moving in rare concert and correspondence, there rose from her a single plaintive cry. And it spurred him on. Finished him. But as he groaned and fell to her side, he worried he had been _**too**_ 'moved.' Too demanding as sensation had pushed him on.

_What must she think, he wondered as he curled at her side, that I need her so? That I can be so untamed?_

He could hear his own breath. Hear his sad age in it. He moved a hand to rest at her arm, and he thanked God when she turned to him instead of away.

She reached past him and lit a lamp by the bed. And he saw her now. Saw her soft expression and her pleasantly messy curls.

"Hello," she told him, quietly, as if she was seeing him for the first time. He smiled faintly. She touched his brow as if she saw something there.

"Tell me," he begged, out loud for once.

They communicated so little about their love making or about what deep emotions might be between them. And that silence left him so unsure. But she looked like she might confide in him tonight.

She sighed and shook her head. But finally spoke, "Everything feels like war to me lately," she told him. "But not you, you are like peace."

He was sated, completely bewildered, but vaguely happy now. And exhaustion left him with no strength to address any of that. He had no option but to hold her with heavy arms...and sleep.

/ / / /

"She refuses all our invitations," Lady Grantham said as her husband slipped into bed beside her.

"It does seem odd, but then perhaps they are busy."

"God, Robert. _**That**_ busy? Pruning hedges or something more personal?"

"Please, Cora," he said with distaste.

"You don't think he is behind this?" his wife wanted to know.

"Strallan? You believe he is some sort of possessive husband who would forbid her from seeing us?" The disbelief was thick in his voice.

"Why would she avoid us?"

"Because she was so happy here?" Robert said, pointedly. His eyebrows high.

His wife sniffed at the implication. "We are going over there. Tomorrow," Cora announced.

... ...

The Strallans' butler directed the Crawleys to the orchard. As they rounded the house, Robert shushed Cora's complaints that it was too cold for any outdoor activity.

At first, through the trees, they only saw Sir Anthony. His back. His long coat was obviously unbuttoned as it was billowing out behind him.

Robert called out to him. And as the man turned, Edith's form became apparent. Her hand was still at her husband's waist, but she and he eased apart now.

To the young woman's mother it was obvious that the embrace had been one of comfort. There was a quiet ache about Edith. But the young woman's husband was not the source. That much seemed clear.

Cora suffered then a trip of emotions. There was the embarrassment at interrupting. But worse to her was admitting this man offered Edith something that had obviously been lacking in any familial bond.

"Is everything all right?" Robert asked as they continued to close the distance between them. He looked from his daughter to Sir Anthony and back again.

"Edith," her husband prompted at a whisper, as he bent towards her.

"I've avoided all of your invitations." she said with a sigh.

"Yes. We _had_ noticed," Robert replied with his paternal tone.

"Not because I didn't want to see you, but because I've dreaded apologizing to Mary."

"This is over some quarrel with Mary?" her father asked, confused.

"We'll sort it out," Cora quickly reassured her husband. "We ladies will fix this, and then we will pick a date for a proper visit."

Sir Anthony and Lord Grantham led the way back to the house then. Once Robert felt confident they had passed out of earshot of his wife and daughter, he asked, "Do you know what this is about?"

"Not exactly, no. The two of them, Edith and her sister, have let this build, with the transgressions getting bigger. Edith is feeling the guilt of it now."

"Why now?" Robert wanted to know.

"Because she's happily settled, perhaps, if that's not too bold an assumption."

That his wife was pained that Mary's revenge had wounded him, Anthony chose not to mention. He thought about that though. Because it was _that_ prick to Edith's conscience that had brought them together. Healing that rift had made them see the potential and the strength that lay in their bond.

/ / / / / / / / / / /

The following afternoon, mother and daughter heard the car drive up. Mary brushed at the sitting room curtains to see who had arrived.

"Must she cling to him for effect? We all know they are married," the young woman complained.

"Is that what you think?" her mother said. Cora shook her head as if just now realizing how blind the young woman was. "She means to apologize, Mary. For the letter she wrote."

"You know about that?"

"She told me. She feels horrible about it, dear."

"And you want me to forgive her?" an incredulous Mary asked.

"I've tried hard to forgive _you_ for what you have done," her mother said pointedly.

.. .. .. ..

When Edith entered, she was alone. And she was, of course, announced as 'Lady Strallan'. There was a perceivable shake to Mary's shoulders as she processed her sister's new title and life. A shake, as if she would shrug off a distasteful reality.

Cora made to leave, a distracted excuse on her lips, and Mary paced looking trapped.

Edith managed a, "Please, Mary. Let me apologize, and I will leave you alone. Forever, if that is what you want."

"Sit down, Mary," Cora said quietly, but firmly. And Lady Grantham decided she had best stay as well.

With her typical tired exasperation, Mary sat back in her chair.

* * *

><p><em><strong>an: one more chapter to go, I think!**_


	3. Chapter 3

**_A/N: Distinctly more 'over the top' than previous chapters. I dunno why. And I refused to fight it. __I hated finishing this because I have had such a ball with these two and their burgeoning sex life. I thank you for your indulgence!_**

**_I just found out that this story has been nominated for The Highclere Awards under the Edith / Anthony category! Someone has made my day! That's for sure. Thanks. _**

**_Check out the growing excitement that is the Highclere Awards forum at downtonabbeyfanawards dot forumup dot co dot uk/_**

/ / / / / / /

In the Crawley's sitting room, everything was most definitely not going according to plan.

After Edith had apologized contritely only to be mostly rebuffed by Mary, their mother felt compelled to stand between them.

Cora then pointed out, "In the future, it would be better if we" (and here, she quite obviously meant Mary) "did not engage in activities we did not want disclosed."

"I can't help it if I have chosen to avoid a life that is boring," an uncowed Mary shot back. "Or if excitement is something that finds me out... if I find it impossible to live a life absent of pleasures..."

Edith blushed, having engaged in the 'pleasures of life' recently enough to be cognisant of how well she was (or wasn't) walking.

"I _**really**_ don't think..." Edith began, as she instinctively moved to hide certain portions of her anatomy behind the sofa.

"_**I**_ really don't think this is the kind of discussion we want to have right now. Or possibly ever," her mother interrupted. Hearing her daughters argue about sexual enjoyment before luncheon was not on her list of things to do somehow.

It seemed to take Mary a good 10 seconds of staring at a somewhat discomforted, but obviously very different, Edith to realize that her sister just may have had sex with Anthony Strallan. Repeatedly. And liked it.

"Oh, God," Mary concluded, quietly. "That's disgusting."

_Not if you do it properly, _Edith was thinking. _And last night, things were most definitely done properly._

Given that she could not contain her smirk, Edith decided the correct and lady like thing to do was leave the room.

The luncheon that followed was a dull affair, although Robert did remark on Edith having quite a good appetite.

/ / / / /

To Anthony, it was as if the resolution was palpable as he massaged his wife's back that evening. She had done her best to make her peace with her family. She'd even earned her father's praise for being the one to apologize... although the men remained confused as to just what she was apologizing for.

Edith responded to Anthony's touch, seeming to go liquid under his fingers. She wiggled a bit and sighed happily.

He smiled at her. Silently, he considered her, considered his fortune. His wife was bright and capable, funny, and possibly most importantly, forgiving of who he was. And with the competition and the bitterness of her previous life behind her, she was suddenly more relaxed and happy.

"I can make it up to Mary, I think. Undo some of it," Edith said as she peeked up at him. "I'll look like an envious child. But I don't care."

"What is it you will you do?"

"I'll write another letter. It wouldn't be lying. I will merely say I don't really know what happened between them, Mary and that man. And I don't, thank God, know any details. And I can say I made up the story and wrote the first letter because I was jealous. I have certainly spent years being jealous of Mary, so that would be no lie."

Anthony didn't worry about the details of the scandal, figuring that was the last thing she wanted to discuss in depth. "You aren't still jealous of her?" he asked instead.

"Not in the least," she said without hesitation.

She rolled over to him, pushed her hair back and then gave him a little smile. She certainly seemed content, he just wished he had the courage to ask if any of that had to do with him.

/ / / / / / / / / /

As the weeks went on, things were good between them. Their ill fitting natures fit well together. The relationship often seemed electric, but still easy to each of them. But they never dared declare it so.

On those nights when he reached out to her in the darkness, whispers, like magic, spun between them. And when he reached for her, somehow, she seemed to honestly respond to him.

With each morning, however, there was his doubt. And his pride begged that he not believe the magic of what he remembered.

He felt so much for her now that it actually frightened him. It worried him that his happiness had become so dependent on her of late. And he could not believe that he could be what this vibrant thing both needed and wanted.

_She is so young. Why does she put up with the way I need her?_ That self doubting part of him wanted to know.

/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /

She didn't see his doubt. Didn't understand that it had begun to work at him. That it would finally derail him.

It was a very ordinary Tuesday, and she didn't know why the man hadn't come upstairs - only that he hadn't. This was the second night in a row that he had avoided her at bedtime. The previous night he had urged her to go upstairs without him, and later she had woken to find his side of the bed empty. For some reason he had gone to sleep in the other room.

She almost joined him there. But she didn't want to wake him.

Tonight, he was in neither bed. She walked the halls in her night clothes. Finally, she found her husband leaning over some open ledgers at his desk downstairs.

"Certainly, any study of efficiency can wait until tomorrow," she teased.

"Ah, Edith. I hadn't heard you come in."

"Penny for your thoughts?" she prompted, gently.

"There's nothing," he lied. "Nothing at all."

"Are you angry with me? Why haven't you come to bed?"

He rubbed at his temples and sighed. He found he couldn't look at her. "I thought you might welcome some solitude," he said into his hands.

"Solitude?" she said with genuine surprise. "Anthony, why?"

"Guilt," he confessed. "I ... Ah. I worry I've been too demanding." That was how he managed to phrase it. The self deriding thought in his head was that he had been clinging, embarrassingly besotted, and boorishly needy of late.

"I don't think I am seeing things the same way you are," Edith told him.

"When we married, I thought us well suited. I liked that you needed me."

"And you think something has changed?" she said feeling a tad frightened.

"You could manage anything now, I think. You are coming into your own. You've become even more capable and confident just as I've fallen in love with you like a needy, ridiculous old man. And I worry now that I'm making a fool out of myself as I clamor for so much of your attention – every day and... every night. I worry that I leave you feeling smothered. Or that you entertain me out of some sense of marital obligation."

She sank to her knees by his chair. Put a hand to his face. "You love me?" she said seizing on that part of his speech. "You really do?"

He merely nodded.

"I love you, too. I have loved you for a while now. I had hoped you felt the same way. But I just couldn't ask you if you did...

"You shouldn't have had to. I should have told you how I felt. I just didn't know that..."

"Shh," she told him. "I love you," she stated firmly. "I don't feel smothered, not at all. I promise you. And I do still need you."

He shook his head as if trying to believe it.

"Now, don't make a woman embarrass herself," she told him as she stood up and tugged on his hand.

"Hmm?"

She smiled at him. He was a wonderfully intelligent man, but he could still miss the point entirely, she found. And merely hoping the other would understand had led to this evening.

"Why do you think I'm down here at 2 am? I am willing to be horribly plain about the whole thing, Anthony ... I want you with me at night - even if it's just to know you are there... because I love you." She paused and grinned, pleased with the way the words sounded said out loud at last. "There is so much like that that I've wanted to say to you these weeks."

"I think it's time all those things were said," he told her as he stood and wrapped his arms around her lightly.

"You wouldn't be shocked if I was to tell you I wanted you to make love to me?" she asked with her head down.

"I'd be relieved," he said. "Ladies are too shy, perhaps. Thinking they can never ask for that second dessert or whatever else they would like. I know it might not seem terribly proper to be more open about all of this. But I don't think we need anyone else's rules."

"Agreed," she told him. "So, will you kiss me, please?"

"Gladly." Then there came his low whisper against her skin. "Was there anything else?"

"Will you kiss my neck that way you do?" she asked shyly.

With quick, careful moves, he sat her on his desk, pressed her knees together and then approached her from the side. He traced a finger down a taunt muscle in her neck and grazed against her skin with his teeth.

She curled her fingers into his hair and rewarded him with an unintended, throaty moan.

She froze then. He felt her muscles tense. "I'm sorry." And she was obviously mortified that she had let loose those gratified sounds.

"Don't be embarrassed. I want to know if I manage to do something you enjoy. I want to know what you want," he said as he pressed kisses into her hairline.

"Anthony?"

"Tell me, Edith, please," he encouraged. He wanted to hear the words at last.

"Could we, please?"

"Hmmm?"

"I want you," she simplified.

His response was to push the hem of her nightgown just above her knees and to ease his hips in between her legs.

She pushed at his shoulders then until she could address him to his face.

"I had meant we could wait long enough to go upstairs," she said containing her shock.

"Ah," he teased. "Yes. We'll save the desk for another night."

She scrutinized him, hoping to learn if he was kidding. There was his smile to go on, yes, but there was that look to his eyes and the way he faintly pressed forward with his hips while he spoke.

Adjusting to the sense of humor that she only saw in private would take some time, she decided.

/ / / /

Once upstairs, she moved to help with his clothing. He stood with his back to the bed, and as he moved his hands over her, she freed him of his tie, coat and shirt. Her hands were at his trousers then, and the button yielded easily despite her inexperience with this task. Together they pushed the waist band down a few inches before he sat on the bed. She had never undressed her husband before. Nor taken the time to pass her hands over him so tantalizingly slowly. She noted it seemed to be something they both enjoyed.

"Now you," he said, as he looked up at her longingly. She hesitated, but removed her robe, throwing it on the blankets.

"Please," he whispered, "the night gown as well."

There had been nights when she had been naked with him beneath the sheets, but she had never put herself on display for him. She paused now, but finally worked the night dress up with a slowness that spoke more of self consciousness than seduction.

"Oh, Edith. Oh God, you are beautiful," he told her as she handed him the garment.

She blushed. Even in the light of just the small lamps, he could see it. There was a rosy dusting across her face and at her chest that he wanted to pass his fingers over.

She managed a smile then as she leaned in to tug at his trousers. He rolled quickly and helped her push them down. And quite quickly, he was as naked as she.

He reached up from his place on the edge of the bed. She had expected him to climb further in - for them to take up their customary spots.

"Come here," he begged. And he guided her to kneel astride him. And then he leaned back.

"You are amazing, my love," he told her. "Such a wonder. I can't believe you are mine." His hand ghosted up her side making her shiver. He held her breast now and squeezed. Her answering moan was low and protracted.

"And you want me?" he asked.

She wouldn't be coy with him any longer. She wouldn't risk it. There would be no more misunderstandings. "Please, Anthony. I want you so much. I _**love**_ you so much. Won't you get in the bed?"

She leaned forward and rested her hands on either side of him and took her weight off his legs so he could move back. But he stayed where he was. His one hand now on her bottom.

"Make love with me right here. Just like this," he whispered.

She did not answer. But she leaned forward to kiss him, to show she trusted him. And she rocked back and forth then, brushing against him. He groaned into their kiss.

"Oh, beautiful, Edith. I love you."

"Help me? Show me?" she said, softly.

Anthony nudged her higher. Then he moved her hand so she could guide him.

She keened at the sensation as he pressed into her slightly. And being the one in control, she could back off. Start again. Tease them both at her tempo.

He murmured his encouragement as she moved over him. She tried to prolong it. To avoid completion because it all felt so wonderful.

Patient and constant, he moved beneath her when her strength began to fail. He touched her, kissed her. Held her as she cried out.

Sated then, she rested on him, and he smiled just as contently into her curls.

"Anthony?" she questioned a bit later, mindful of the need he must still feel.

"Sssh, there's time." And he rolled them to ease from her. He arranged her under the covers and wrapped his arms around her. "You are so beautiful. Especially like this."

"But I want you to finish," she said, bravely. "I love knowing I can do that to you," she admitted.

He hovered over her now and kissed her shoulders. "You like knowing you can render me insensible?" he wondered, sounding slightly amused.

"And something a little less than - or maybe more than – polite and stoic," she managed to tease.

/

A month later Anthony and Edith were chatting together at one of her parents' gatherings.

"Is it all what it seems?" the Dowager Countess wanted to know as she spied on the couple from across the room.

"She's madly in love with him. And he is wrapped around her finger," Cora confirmed.

"Who would have thought it?"

"I don't know if even they knew it would turn out this well."

"They always have their heads together like there is some secret!" Edith's grandmother noted.

"I think they are strong proponents of _**avoiding**_ secrets - at least between the two of them," Cora countered.

"All that horrible bearing of one's soul? On some sort of continual basis?" the dowager said with a touch of melodrama. "Oh, how tiresome!"

Cora laughed and changed the subject.


End file.
